A Collision of Fates
by Tragedy Jones
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas are magically transported to our world, but fate puts them in between a pair of distant lovers


The following is a tale both bizarre and romantic. Though our tale takes place in our world, just one year in the future, some of its characters come from a fictional land which does not exist. Yet they appear here. As it is not important to our tale how they have arrived, as so much as to why they are here, this shall not be explained within the body of the story. For simplicity, the author offers the following suggestion:  
  
It was a warm night, and both Leglosas, an elven archer of unparalleled skill, and Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, also known as Strider the ranger, were taking a break from posing to galavant through the forests near Gondor in order to commit genocide on a local tribe of goblins.  
  
Whilst on their quest they passed many trees, all of which were very tree-like and need no further description.  
  
After the brutal slaying of many Goblins, in which Aragorn and Legolas kept attempting to show off more and more, a great Goblin sorcerer laid a curse upon then that they shall end up in a land where they shall not be known as heroes, but as freaks and monsters, as the goblins themselves are in middle earth.  
  
A glowing vortex of orange and purple light surrounded the two adventurers, as they suddenly found themselves in a much different forests, although one which had trees which were still unremarkable and need not to be described in detail. The trained ears of the pair picked up the sounds of a battle nearby, and, after a brief pose, both ran off towards the fray.  
  
1 And so begins our tale…  
  
  
  
After 5 years of eligibility, Sean Creef finally had his license. It had always seemed that fate would prevent him from driving. But as fickle as lady luck was, she had finally smiled on him. He had a freshly acquired license, a used blue & white Chevrolet S-10, and a week off of work. Life was good, save the fact that he had not heard from Jennifer in weeks, and was worried. This was the week he was supposed to visit her, and he was nervous and worried. Was she ok? Does she not want me to come?  
  
Sean always had a problem with doubt and fear. It would not stop him from driving to Arkansas.  
  
When last he spoke to Jen, she was very sad. Due to the ineptitude of the people in the area of Arkansas which she lived, she could not get her money withdrawn from the bank, nor the appropriate paperwork filed for her car. So she could not move away yet, as though she were trapped.  
  
That was three weeks ago, when Jennifer was weeping and Sean had proposed that he could visit and she said she would like that, but was not sure if it would be possible. Sean had to know if Jennifer was alright.  
  
Aragorn awoke to the sound of arrows whizzing by his head. He lay on a couch, in a large room with no walls. As he opened his eyes, he saw an arrow embedded inches from his face, and went to put his hand on his sword when he saw, across the room, his companion Legolas standing with a smirk.  
  
"And that, Jen, is how you wake a snoring prince."  
  
Aragorn, embarrassed by Legolas' prank, leapt from the couch and tackled the elf boy, and they rolled across the floor, both trying to get into a position of advantage. As they wrestled, Jen was beside herself. Her cheeks, usually pallid as a fine porcelain doll had been red almost constantly for three weeks now. Here were two men she had only ever dreamed about, being as they were fictional characters. But here they were, in her house. Wrestling. Boy fighting, as she would have called it if she could convince herself to speak instead of watching the display before her. Aragorn, as he always does, had pinned the elf down to the ground, and stood up, confident in his victory.  
  
Aragorn ran his hand through his dark hair and looked to Jen. Never in all his days seen a lady, elf or otherwise, so beautiful as she. And although his heart was torn by his love for an elven maiden, this human, or so she tried to pass herself as, made the blood flow through his cheeks and other, more lustful places. With the grace of a prince, Aragorn took Jen's hand and kisses the back of it softly, his recently trimmed beard soft on her skin.  
  
"I am sorry you had to witness that, m'lady. My friend and I are very gracious of your giving us board until we are able to find out how to get home. I apologize for bringing violence into your home," spoke the ranger.  
  
Jennifer felt her heart leap into her float and smiled, her blush much more crimson, and murmured.  
  
"It's ok…"  
  
As Aragorn stood admiring the blushing lady, Legolas stood up now, his hair mussed and a look of jealousy. Taking a moment to contain the excitement in his voice, he spoke, soft and graceful.  
  
"Come now, Miss Jennifer, we shall continue our archery lessons."  
  
It was raining when Sean pulled into the drive through of some Dunkin Donuts in South Carolina. A whole day driving, and he had listened to Jewel sing ever song she ever had, excluding her Christmas album. And then Sean sang every song Jewel ever sang, again excluding the Christmas album, and then he let her sing them again, and here he was, in South Carolina, getting a thermos of coffee, extra cream, extra sugar. He wished he had brought his best friend with him, but he told her he wanted to go visit Jen on his own. Now, as rain fell on a lonely street corner, he realized it may have been a mistake.  
  
It would still be a few more hours before he would have to stop, so Sean kept driving, turning on the radio and signing along to a few old favorites. Garth Brooks could always make him smile, even through the tears that would fall throughout his long drive. As it got dark, he realized he needed to sleep. Arkansas was, after all, a two day drive.  
  
On his trip to a motel, Sean was saddened to find that none of the Country Radio stations in the area were to his liking. He was unaccustomed to their strange DJ's and so he stopped at a light and turned his laptop back on, and let his collection of digital music guide him to a small motel where he crawled into a cold twin sized bed and slept, alone and disgusted with the world.  
  
The rain that fell in South Carolina had passed Arkansas by. It was a clear night, and in the meadow near the house of Erika and Jennifer Busseau, two men who did not belong were standing, staring up at the sky. The sky here was alien to them, when one looked up from the valleys of middle earth, they saw no Orion, no Little Dipper, no Wolf 359. But here, so far from their home, they did.  
  
Inside, Jen was relaxing in her bathtub, with candles lining the room. Ever since the night before Legolas and Aragorn had arrived, the power had been out. So had the phone and pretty much everything but the hot water. So she enjoyed the tub, even though she had no music. She lay in the water, her eyes closed, thinking of the events of the past few weeks. She wasn't sure how long it had been. Maybe only a week or two. Her fictional boys were stranded, she thought. They had come across her stabbing boxes in a meadow, the same one they now stood in, discussing their own home. Jennifer longed to visit Rivendel. Her thoughts drifted, and before she knew it, the water was cold. She wondered if strider would be all manly and hold her to make her warm.  
  
Giggling to herself, Jen left the tub and wrapped herself in a towel, and started drying her hair. She couldn't stifle a full blown laugh when she saw a copy of "Return of the King" lying on the bathroom sink.  
  
"Speaking of the King," she thought to herself, "He promised to teach me to swordfight tomorrow.  
  
With a huge grin, Jennifer danced to her bed and slid between she sheets. She noticed a piece of paper there with a poem written on it, in Quenya. Jen's entire body shivered as she read the poem, which talked of how pretty she was. But then, as she laid her head to her pillow, she remembered that the greatest poet she knows, a human boy, who was never a fictional character, is supposed to be visiting her. With a confused head Jennifer thought of her poet boy who she had not spoken to, and she drifted to sleep.  
  
Separated by hundreds of miles, two hearts which knew each other slept, alone and apart.  
  
Mornings come earlier in the Carolinas than they do to Arkansas, and Sean arose, and headed into the small shower of the motel room. He had been debating shaving for days now, long before he left. He already had a beard, and was curious if he should remove it before arriving in Arkansas. But he would decide later, as he entered the shower, which would not get warm enough for his liking, not warm enough to chill the worry in his bones.  
  
Stepping out of the shower, Sean tossed on a black t-shirt and blue jeans. As he stared into the mirror, he listened to the murmur of his bones. They knew that Jen loved him, but he couldn't always hear them for the screaming in his head. As he laced his boots, he hoped it was still raining. Throwing on his trench coat and Stetson, he opened the door to the motel room, and was greeted by a glare of sunlight directly in his eyes.  
  
"Fucking wonderful," he said aloud. "I love how the weather likes to compliment my mood."  
  
After paying the manager and checking out, Sean fired up the truck, then his laptop, and opted for heavy metal. It would be a long day.  
  
To the west, in what was Sean's eventual destination, sword's sung a lusty battle-song, as steel rang against steel. Aragorn, wielding Anduril, the blade of his ancestor Isildor, and Jen used a blade Aragorn had leant her, as her spring-steel replica had shattered on it's first contact with Anduril. The two of them danced to the drumming of blades back and forth across the meadow, the ranger with one hand behind his back, obviously holding back as Jen tried to hit him with the blade.  
  
"Come on Aragorn, let me hit you!" she cried out in a mixture of frustration, lust and excitement.  
  
With another skillful parry, Aragorn grinned, and then struck Jen's sword, sending it flying into a bale of hay, on which sat Legolas, reading something or other. Aragorn then sidestepped and pushed Jen with the flat of his sword, but caught her hand before she fell and pulled her closer to him than she had ever been.  
  
"But if you hit me," he spoke, and Jen strained to hear him over the pounding of her heart in her chest, "Then I would bleed, and such a violent and gory sight should not befall such lovely eyes."  
  
At this moment Jen realized that she was in Aragorn's arms, and did nothing to protest as he leaned closer, gentling putting his lips to hers. She would not have noticed the sun disappearing from the sky at that moment. All she knew was upon her lips.  
  
The road between here and there is a long, dark one. Sean sat behind the wheel, staring ahead with eyes both bright and empty. His thermos was freshly refilled, and he had Stroke 9 playing on his laptop. Only 200 more miles a few more hours, and he'd be in her arms. Or at least, that was the plan.  
  
"How many people wanna kick some ass?" He sang.  
  
"So don't lay another finger on her. She's mine and I still want her. If you put your hands upon her you're a goner, goner."  
  
And so it goes, the road between here and there and back again. He'd make it before the sun set, this he knew. His bones had an intuition that never failed him, even when the whole world went wrong.  
  
Jen had never been kissed that way before. Since that kiss, hours ago, Aragorn had not done so again, probably since he was confused that Jen had fainted. Arwen would have never done such a thing. But then, he had not once desired to kiss another woman since he met Arwen. Not before Jen.  
  
Jen lay on her bed, her ankle sore from the way she fell. Legolas came into her room carrying a pile of papers. They appeared to be computer printouts. When he entered, Jen looked up. She had been half napping half wishing Aragorn would home hold her. Her eyes saw Legolas, who was also quite more than handsome enough to make her swoon. She giggles, because on the desk to his side was his action figure, knocked on it's back in front of Aragorn.  
  
"Miss Jen, I found these on your floor, and I hope it is not an intrusion to have read them," the elven boy laid the papers on Jennifer's lap and sat on the bed, so delicately as to not even shift the mattress.  
  
The papers were poems, this time in English, and written by an old friend of Jen's. The same old friend who even now was coming here to see her. When Jen saw them she immediately thought of him, and how he was always writing for her. She could never tell who enjoyed it more, her for reading them or him for writing them. But it didn't matter, for she thought they were beautiful, even if he did not.  
  
She smiled bashfully, "No, Legolas, it's ok. I didn't write them anyway."  
  
Intrigued, the blonde elf looked at her, and with well thought words, asked, "Who but you could write something so beautiful?"  
  
Jen was unable to suppress a blush, and gave a nonsensical answer.  
  
"Bunny wrote them."  
  
"A rabbit?"  
  
"No, a boy. Well, a man I should say."  
  
"Bunny is a name here?"  
  
"No. Well, yes. It's. It's what I call him because he's special to me."  
  
Jen was blushing and Legolas was confused.  
  
"Did he write them for you?"  
  
Jen took a moment to glance down at the pile of papers on her lap. They had been printed by her almost a year ago, maybe more. She traced her fingers over one of the titles. "Elfin Moon". He wrote that for her the first time they talked. And she realized how much she missed him.  
  
"Yes, he did. He always wrote me pretty things."  
  
"He loved you?" the Elf asked.  
  
Jen didn't need to think of how to answer that question.  
  
"He still does."  
  
Jen and Legolas kept talking, Aragorn came inside, and caught their conversation as he came down the hall. He heard only part of it as he crept, quiet as a ghost.  
  
"And you love him, as well?"  
  
"With all my heart. I just hope he still knows that."  
  
Aragorn blushed, but said not a word, he crept back down the hall and outside, where he looked up at the unfamiliar moon. He would make that beautiful woman his bride.  
  
100 miles away, on a black highway, a blue truck rolled every onward, driven by a blue boy in a black hat. He would be there soon. Two hours tops. He decided to go back to his roots, and rolled the window down. He loaded a different playlist, and sang along with Garth. He was in Arkansas and wearing a cowboy hat, and, unlike the beauty he was headed to see, he did not feel unnatural in this place  
  
"If tomorrow never comes, will she know how much I love her? And did I try in every way, to show her every day, that she's my only one?"  
  
Sean sang on and on, until he had sang every song on the list, and he was soon entering the Van Buren city limits. He pulled into a motel lot, about 3 miles from where Jen's home should be, and stepped out of the truck. His legs ached from the road, and his entire body tingled with nervous energy. It was a feat of will to keep from just screaming or vomiting or falling over from anxiety, but with determination Sean rented a room, and entered, finishing off his second thermos of coffee.  
  
"I'm gonna be up all goddamn week at this rate"  
  
Another shower, this time warm enough to calm him, and Sean opened op a suitcase and from it produced a pair of fine black slacks, black silk socks, and a black silk dress shirt. He made sure he was completely dry, and then dressed slowly. The shoes he had brought were a bit uncomfortable, but he wanted to look good. He buttoned up the shirt, then decided to put on an undershirt, and then rebuttoned the shirt. Some slicked back hair, and a crimson tie later, and he was set.  
  
"Mental note, Sean. No cologne. Jen doesn't like it," Sean spoke before snickering. "Addendum: mental notes aren't spoken."  
  
After changing, Sean went over his trench coat with a lint roller, until it was black as night, or at least black as a year old coat can get. Then the same treatment to his hat, which he placed on delicately. Then, walking carefully to the truck, he got in, and drove to the florists.  
  
Legolas was now sleeping on the couch as Aragorn and Jennifer watched TV. Coming from a world with no electricity, Aragorn was more than unfamiliar with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so he was bored soon, but found that holding Jen close was more entertaining. Jennifer was trying hard to concentrate on the show. Spike was very sexy in his trench coat and boots, but Aragorn was very sexy with his beard and sword and being Aragorn. But somehow Jen didn't feel right. Her ankle was sore, and since earlier she was confused. Sean was supposed to visit, and here she was with a fictional character, heir to the throne of Gondor. And he had kissed her. Once in the meadow and dozens of times during the commercials of Buffy. And she was swooning but confused. She must be dreaming.  
  
Jen never heard the truck pull into her drive. Her lips were locked to those of her ranger as the door shut, the combination of all the hair and kissing and commercials had her distracted as Sean walked up the steps to her house. Strider, ever aware of his surroundings, saw the poet, clad in black, approaching the door, but did not know how to react. He had never seen him before. When the poet was about to reach the door, he glanced in a window and froze.  
  
Such a thing could not be. All that Sean knew was fairly destroyed. There she was, his faery. But she was making out with a fictional character. Making out with anyone would have broken the poet's fragile heart, but Aragorn? Such a thing could not be. As Aragorn slid his hand under the bottom of Jen's shirt, stroking her stomach, and looked directly at Sean, who blinked in shock and pain. 1 dozen red roses fell to the ground in a cascade of tear's and babies breath.  
  
Jen never heard the truck's engine start back up, or the door slam, or the sound of someone leaving. She was lost in Aragorn's touch, he was kissing her like no one ever had, her lips and throat were bare and wanting underneath his lips. She wanted to be held by him. And he held her close all night. As the sun rose the next morning, they were asleep on the floor in front of the television, fully clothed but fully locked in each other's arms.  
  
After returning to his motel, Sean went and sat on the queen sized bed and stared at the mirror on the ceiling. For hours he stared, before finally kicking his shoes off and stripping away the dress shirt and the slacks and throwing on jeans, t-shirt, and boots. He had a goal to achieve.  
  
He went to his laptop and brought it inside, and furiously, through numb fingers and hot tears, typed a poem. When it was finished, he found a Kinkos and printed it out, and then returned to the motel. 3:08 AM. He may as well get some sleep, tomorrow would be a glorious day.  
  
Jen awoke to the sound of her mother's words whizzing by her head.  
  
"Jennifer, wake up! Strider brought you flowers!"  
  
Jen's mother, Erika, was giggling. A fictional character had come to her early this morning and asked if you could court her daughter. And, being a fan of Strider herself, she said yes.  
  
When Jen opened her eyes and rubbed them with pale little fists, she saw Aragorn standing in front of her with one dozen red roses.  
  
"I believe this is customary tradition to express affection in your world?"  
  
The pink lips of Jen's face lifted into a shy smile.  
  
"Where did you get the money for roses?"  
  
"A pawn shop, I think it is. I sold one of my rings."  
  
Jennifer wrapper her arms around Strider's waist and hugged him, her face pressed to his stomach.  
  
"You're dreamy."  
  
The Ranger smiled, as Legolas came in and shook his head. He couldn't believe Aragorn was actually abandoning Arwen, an elf, for this mortal woman. With a scowl, Legolas actually realized it was more of a feeling of jealousy than one of arrogance. So many men seemed to desire this girl, Aragorn, the mortal poet, even himself. What is so amazing about her that he could not comprehend, he thought. He snuck out the back door and walked into the meadow to think.  
  
Arkansas and gun control mix as well as Sean Creef and rational thought. After waking up a mere 3 hours later, Sean put his boots back on, and grabbed his trench coat and Stetson, and head back out. The sky was overcast today. Much more appropriate, he thought, as he got in his truck. In the glove box, he knew, was a .45 caliber Colt M1911A1 pistol, with two loaded 7-round magazines. He bought it shortly after he turned 21, and had gone to the range often. He was a decent shot at medium to long range, and rarely missed when closer. He swung by a Walmart, and checked his wallet. 200 dollars. Enough for a bolt action and a few rounds. He headed to the sporting goods section, and found a .30-06 Hunting rifle. Fortunately enough, Arkansas has rather lax gun laws, and an ID was enough to get him enough firepower to blow the head clean off of a grizzly bear.  
  
From there he drove to a mile from Jen's house, and crept through the woods. Finding a tree close by, he spent a half hour managing to climb it to a point looking towards her meadow. He was there only a half hour before an elf, a sulking elf at that, made it's way onto a bale of hay that was puckered with arrows.  
  
Sean wiped his face free of tears, and lined the rifle's sights up with the elf. He took a deep breath, and thought of the situation. They were not real, they couldn't be. But he was empty, and so he could not care for anything now, even his love was competing. Competing with his hate.  
  
Legolas was used to getting the advantage over his foes. He was the greatest of archers, and could dispatch sometimes dozens of enemies before they could close. But no bow, no matter how elven, has the power of a .30- 06, and no bow, no matter how magical, shoots straight at over a mile.  
  
For the first time in his life, Legolas was unable to have the advantage of range over an adversary. He never saw the poet in the tree across the meadow a mile away. The man who was as destroyed inside as Legolas was about to be outside.  
  
Sean took a deep breath and held it. Then he squeezed the trigger until the rifle kicked, a loud bang broke the still air, and, a few seconds later, an elf's face became a fine red mist upon the wind, leaving bits of gore all over the ground.  
  
Feeling numb, Sean spoke to himself the only line from Fight Club he ever quotes.  
  
"I felt like destroying something beautiful."  
  
Inside the Busseau home, Jen was clinging tight to Aragorn when she heard a crack louder than thunder. Aragorn, who had never even seen a rifle before, had no idea. Jennifer, however, had. And she felt a chill in her bones as though a sacred bond between love and hate had been cracked.  
  
"Sean…" she murmured.  
  
Aragorn blinked. "What are you talking about woman?"  
  
Jennifer was now beginning to weep, her eyes closed. "Legolas is dead, Aragorn. I can feel it but please, please go check the meadow."  
  
Aragorn drew his sword, Anduril, and headed outside to find his companion's headless corpse slumped sickeningly on the bale of hay. His clist clenched in rage as he turned to look in the direction Legolas had been.  
  
Across the field, Sean fired again, purposefully aiming for the blade of Aragorn's sword. He would kill him in a much, much more personal manner. But he had to remove the tooth from the wolf, first.  
  
In the real world, no sword, magical or not, bounces bullets. Aragorn discovered this before he even learned what a bullet was, as the second .30- 06 round splintered his blade, cracking it as it had been by Sauron in the past. His enemy defenseless, Sean clambered down from the tree and made his way across the field without a rifle.  
  
Jen rushed out the door moments after the second gunshot to see Aragorn, puzzled, standing next to the bale of hay that seated the shattered elf. Across the meadow, the shadowy image of a man clad in dark came into view. With tears streaming down her face, Jennifer was confused. Men fighting for her was supposed to be romantic. This was just horrifying.  
  
Sean stopped 50 yards from Aragorn, and looked over to Jennifer. Sean was wearing his trench coat, his cowboy hat, jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. His eyes were burning, his bearded face marked with tears. Aragorn stood, in his tunic and boots, his sword shattered, his fists clenched in rage where Sean's were eerily calm. Jen stood with an enraged, hurt look on her face. Before she could settle on what to say, Sean stepped forward again.  
  
"Aragorn, Strider, whoever the fuck you are. I've come to challenge you for the heart of that beautiful woman, the one who I have loved for as long as I have known her. The one who makes me who I am," he called out.  
  
Aragorn, tossing aside his shattered sword, started heading towards Sean.  
  
"You killed Legolas, and so I shall kill you."  
  
Sean cracked his neck, his rage just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed.  
  
"Bring it on, pretty-boy."  
  
After the taunt Aragorn charged at Sean, who forced himself to remain composed, and stepped to the side and stuck out his foot, tripping the ranger. As soon as he touched the earth, Sean's boot was striking him in the ribs, and then the temple. Aragorn rolled and came up, his forehead gashed open, and now he proceeded with caution. He threw a punch and Sean threw his hand up to block and struck the ranger in the throat, then the face, before grabbing his dark mane and pulling Strider's face nose-first to Sean's knee.  
  
Aragorn stumbled and Sean charged him, throwing his shoulder up and driving his elbow where his knee was moments before. The two men fell to the ground in a heap of rage and blood and violence, where they began to wrestle.  
  
Once on the ground, Aragorn had the advantage and pinnded Sean down, hammering his fist into his face until Sean grasped Aragorn by the scrotum and feadbutted the ranger 3 times. Now on top, the avenging warrior-poet began to beat Aragorn with his fists, each blow a broken heart, a shout of rage.  
  
As Aragorn was being pummeled, Jen slowly walked closer, her eyes now streaming tears down pale cheeks, her hands holding themselves as two men she cared for were destroying eachother. Aragorn's right hand struck Sean in the temple, but the poet was now nothing but a monster, a destroyer. He then reached out until he found one of the shards of Jennifer's sword that had broken on Anduril. In rage and desperation, he gripped it, though it cut his own skin, and he plunged it deep into the chest of the poet, who gasped, and coughed blood.  
  
Standing, shocked, Sean stumbled onto the bale of hay, and, his eyes wandered to Aragorn, who was beginning to stand. His face, although battered and shattered, was still taunting Sean. But he would not be denied his vengeance. Tucked into his belt was the Colt, and he drew it, and, as he pulled the shattered blade from his chest he squeezed the pistol's trigger, twice, two bullets flying through the ranger, who promptly collapsed.  
  
Jen stood there, and Sean fell to one knee. With his eyes, he begged her to come closer, and with a heavy heart, she complied. Kneeling next to him, he looked in her eyes.  
  
"I always knew I would get my heart broken by coming here. I just never knew it would be literal," he said, clutching his chest.  
  
"Sean, don't talk, you're hurt," Jen tried to protest but he would be heard.  
  
"Listen. I love you. I had suspected I would never hold you, and I suppose this is true now. But I never…"  
  
He coughed, blood trailing down his chin now.  
  
"I never stopped listening to my bones."  
  
It was then that his heart gave out, and he collapsed forward into her arms. Only in death was he at peace. He would never be able to apologize for the pain his love brought her.  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
Before the coroners came, Jen found a piece of paper within Sean's coat. Though it was covered with blood, the text was readable. It was Sean's final poem.  
  
Faery,  
  
You know how very much  
  
You mean to me.  
  
More than the sum of the moon and the stars,  
  
More than the blood in my veins.  
  
That is what I would have said  
  
Before my world was  
  
Turned so upside down  
  
And inside out  
  
That I cannot see straight.  
  
I am a warrior-poet,  
  
Born in pain and destined  
  
To die  
  
In pain.  
  
Though I am not a man  
  
Of the sword,  
  
I am a warrior  
  
Still.  
  
This I shall prove to you.  
  
I swear upon my very heart,  
  
That as much as I love you,  
  
I shall prove this to you.  
  
At the cost of my life  
  
I will give you my love. 


End file.
